The Dragon Detectives
by TheTypist55
Summary: When Charlie's search for illegal dragon poachers leads him to Zonko's, he asks his brother George for help. George, depressed and needing to impress his eleven-year-old daughter Roxanne, reluctantly accepts, not realizing what is in store for him and his brother. Inspired by The Nice Guys.


**This is just an idea I've been bouncing around in my head. It was inspired by the movie The Nice Guys. I'm not sure what will come of it, but I wanted to at least get the idea down. I hope you like it!**

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"Mum says she'll let you come home when you stop drinking," Roxanne told her father as she helped him pack Skiving Snackboxes behind the register of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

"Well, Mum needs to lower her expectations," George responded, not bothering to look up from his task.

"How come you drink anyway?"

"Because running the shop is very stressful."

"But Uncle Ron runs the shop with you, and he doesn't drink."

"That's because your Uncle Ron was emasculated by your Aunt Hermione."

"What does emasculated mean?"

"I'm glad you asked, sweetie. It means - "

"Bloody hell, she's only eleven!" Ron interrupted, pausing in his efforts to feed the Pygmy Puffs.

"And she's the smartest eleven-year-old around because I don't shelter her from conversations that you might consider indelicate."

"I don't drink because your Aunt Hermione doesn't like it and I respect my wife," Ron told his niece.

"Then how come you have boxes of porn and stuff in the back room?" Roxanne asked curiously.

"Roxanne!" George chastised. "Don't say 'and stuff.' Just say, how come you have boxes of porn in the back room?"

"Right. How come you have boxes of porn in the back room, Uncle Ron?"

Ron's exasperated sigh was drowned out by the tinkle of the bell above the shop's front door.

"We're closed," George called out lazily.

"Then you should lock the door," a voice responded.

"Woah," Roxanne breathed. "Who _is_ that?"

George and Ron looked up from their tasks to see a short, excessively muscular man wearing a leather jacket, jeans, and heavy black boots. A short orange ponytail rested against the back of his neck.

"That," George said with a sigh of annoyance. "Is your Uncle Charlie."

"Cool," Roxanne said, still in awe of Charlie's intimidating look.

"You must be Joanne," Charlie said to his niece.

"Roxanne."

"Right. Sorry, it's been a few years. You mind if I steal your father and your Uncle Ron away for a little conversation?"

"We don't have time," George said, letting his annoyance show in his voice.

"Then make time."

"Charlie!" George stepped around the counter to tell his brother that he was an adult and couldn't be bossed around, but tripped over the Skiving Snackboxes before he could do so. He slammed into the display next to him, knocking over rows and rows of Extendable Ears. With a loud sigh of frustration, he beckoned Charlie to the back room.

"You have five minutes."

Ron moved to join them in the back room, but George held up a hand to stop him.

"I need you out here. Finish up feeding the Pygmy Puffs, then pick up all this mess. We're opening in thirty minutes."

Ron shook his head, irritated at being dismissed by his older brother, but did as he was told while George opened the door to the back room.

"Can I come?" Roxanne asked.

"No," George answered. "Only adults."

"Then how come Uncle Ron isn't going?"

"Because he's not an adult, sweetie."

Charlie chortled as Ron's ears grew ferociously red. He followed George into the back room, which was full of overstock items and various ingredients, as well as a small table with four chairs. Grabbing one, Charlie turned it around and sat in it backwards, his hands dangling over the back of the chair in typical bad-boy fashion. George sat down across from him, crossed his legs primly, and told him to proceed.

"I'll get right to the point, George. Someone's been killing dragons in a protected forest in Romania. They're killing them for their blood and their scales, but we're not sure what they're doing with them."

George shrugged, disinterested. "Don't people kill dragons all the time? Plenty of wands have dragon heartstring as their core."

"All legitimate trades that require the killing of dragons are regulated. There are a certain number allotted, and they all come from unprotected forests. The dragons I'm talking about live in a protected forest, a sanctuary, no hunting allowed. Dragons are already endangered, George. Whoever is doing this is destroying the dragon population in the eastern region of Romania, and I've been assigned with finding out why and stopping them."

"Don't see what that has to do with me." George was growing impatient.

"We haven't been successful at catching the poachers, so I tried a different approach. I got someone who purchases dragon scales on the black market to talk, and he says to get them, you have to talk to a man in Zonko's."

"Great. Sounds like you're on top of it. Now, I've gotta get back - "

"George, you're someone on the inside that I can use. If I go snooping around Zonko's asking questions, they're bound to get suspicious. But you're in the same business. I'm sure you talk to people at Zonko's all the time."

"…Yeah, sometimes."

"So all I'm asking is for you to do a little digging. Just ask a few questions. As soon as you get the information I need, I'll take it from there, and you won't hear another word about this."

"Not interested, Charlie. If you want to go around like some kind of detective or spy or whatever it is, go ahead. I have enough work to do around here without you giving me tasks as well."

"Dad, you have to do it!" Roxanne shouted from the other side of the back door.

Startled, George and Charlie looked to see an Extendable Ear peeking out from under the door frame.

"Roxanne!" George said in frustration. His daughter opened the door and looked at him without a trace of guilt.

"Dad, the dragons are being killed. You have to help Uncle Charlie. You know it's the right thing to do."

"It's not my problem," George said firmly, standing up and pushing his chair in. "It's been great talking to you, Charlie, but if you'll excuse me - "

"You don't care about anyone but yourself, do you?" Roxanne asked her father coldly, the disappointment clear on her face.

George looked at his daughter and knew what he had to do. He had been depressed lately, it was true, and he had been drinking himself into a stupor every night to try to avoid thoughts of Fred, which had been swarming his mind like bees lately. It sounded simple enough, asking a few questions, and if it would redeem him a little in his daughter's eyes, what was the harm?

"Fine," he sighed. "What do you want me to ask?"


End file.
